The Meeting of Desire and Decency: Our Role in a Crucial Conversation

I had a conversation recently with a colleague and friend who ran a Hillel for many years.

He brought up the recent high-profile stories about the harassment and assault of women on college campuses.  And he said that the problem, as he and other university professionals see it, is one of culture – a culture on campus that overtly and tacitly encourages some young men to feel it’s ok to overstep certain boundaries.

We read the Torah year after year because we believe it adds value to our lives.  The more I study, the more I feel that the impact of Torah on us is unhelpful if it’s simplistic.  The Torah says this, so do it.  Jacob did this, so let’s do it.  

Rather, the more carefully we analyze a particular story or dynamic in the Torah, the more profoundly we are likely to impact our approach to modern circumstances and dilemmas.

And so I want to spend some time looking closely at a story that I believe can deepen our thinking and action regarding a current reality that is quite disturbing. 

It’s a story about a group of people who are not particularly evil who nonetheless support one another in doing something quite terrible. 

The story of Joseph and his brothers inspired copious rabbinic analyses, a full-length book by Thomas Mann and a Broadway Musical that I bet many of us can recite large portions of by heart.  It’s a story of anger, resentment and, ultimately, accountability and reconciliation.

The anger and resentment that Joseph’s brothers have toward him appears to emerge from their father’s preferential treatment of Joseph, exacerbated by Joseph’s telling of his dreams in which the brothers appear bowing down in acknowledgement of his superiority.

They see him from afar one day and, before he gets closer, they conspire to kill him.

Hinei ba’al hachalomot halazeh ba they say, “Here comes that dreamer!”

And then L’chu v’na’hargehu v’nashlicheihu b’echad haborot!  Come, let’s kill him and throw him into one of the pits.  We’ll say that a wild animal devoured him.

In the arid rocky hills of ancient Canaan you had the perfect storm – anger, resentment and opportunity. 

The brothers had a story that, in their minds, justified the action that they planned.  We resent the dreamer.  He needs to be stopped.  

And at this point in the story, there are no differentiated voices, just the unified voice of the group.  He’s coming.  Let’s kill him.  Then we’ll cover it up.

Everyone who plans something terrible has a story that makes the act seem not only sensible, but necessary, in their eyes.

No one says, “I’m going to do a terrible thing because I am misguided and wicked.”

Almost a decade ago, at a university not so far from here, a group of male students walked along one of the paths on campus reciting a two-part chant having to do with their female colleagues.

The first part was “No means yes!” and the second part is not something I can repeat in this setting.

The chant told a story.  Women are interested in us men.  They may not always admit it, but they want us.  They always want us.

Add to the number and volume of those telling that story.  Add alcohol to a prefrontal cortex that research has shown again and again is not fully developed.

And you have, on campuses ranging from urban grit to rural bucolic, a perfect and dangerous storm.

I’m not here to offer my opinion on each case that’s been in the news lately.  I do, however, want us to acknowledge the extent of a problem that stems from a story and a culture of a number of men, certainly not all, who imagine consent where it doesn’t exist or, worse, imagine that they are so entitled that consent doesn’t even matter.

(And by the way, harassment and assault also take place between people of the same gender.  I’m speaking this morning about the more common scenario of men harassing and assaulting women, but of course other scenarios exist and must be acknowledged as well.)

The NY Times recently featured an article about discrimination in the workplace, based on stereotypes – discrimination based on gender and race, for example.  A study was done in which employers were told about a stereotype, pertaining to gender or race.  Some employers were given an additional piece of information.  They were told that lots of people believe this particular stereotype. 

The employers who were told that the stereotype was popular were far more likely to discriminate than those who were given no such information. 

But a third group - those least likely to discriminate – were told that discrimination is wrong and that they shouldn’t do it.

That’s right – just having someone with a modicum of authority saying “you shouldn’t do this” had a substantial effect on people’s behavior. 

We’ve left a band of angry brothers out in the Canaanite sun but we know what happens next, so let’s turn our attention to it for a moment.

First Reuben, then Judah, step forward with plans to prevent the brothers from killing Joseph.

Reuben says, al tish’p’chu dam.  Shed no blood.  Cast him into a pit out in the wilderness, but don’t touch him yourselves.  The Torah provides the parenthetical explanation that he intended to come back later to retrieve Joseph from the pit.

Judah, seeing a caravan of tradesmen, offers the next suggestion.  Ma betza ki na’ahrog et acheinu v’cisinu et damo.  What do we gain by killing our brother and covering up his blood?  Let’s sell him to these tradesmen,

Joseph is taken down to Egypt.

The voice of Reuben is the first individual voice we hear following the uniform declaration of the brothers.  And his voice is followed by that of Judah. 

They break free, they diverge from the unanimity of narrative and voice that nearly killed Joseph.

The approaches of Reuben and Judah differ in some ways, but here’s what they have in common.  Both Reuben and Judah appeal to decency and practicality.  Judah even more than Reuben convinces their brothers to do the more decent thing – not super decent by any means, but more decent - by appealing to their needs. 

We know that many young men on college campuses are hearing a story that seems unanimous – about how boys will be boys and how no really means yes.  The confluence of intense desire, immature thinking and peer pressure provides a great deal of encouragement.  It all makes good sense to some young men in the moment.

But where are Reuben and Judah?  Where are those who step forward to try to orchestrate a different outcome?

Maybe, in keeping with what I identified in the Biblical exchange, there needs to be more conversation about how to align decent behavior with the fulfillment of certain basic desires.  Honest conversations that include young men and women and the more mature adults who care about them regarding what people are looking for in relationships, about how to achieve the kinds of partnerships, romantic and otherwise, that are deeply satisfying for everyone.

Not a disingenuous projection of certain needs and desires from one party onto the other, but an honest exchange that can be illuminating for everyone and begin to change the culture.

A culture that encourages communication and respect, nurtured while children are growing up at home and later in college, can lay the groundwork for the dynamic that we wish for every couple under the Huppah.  We wish that every couple will be reyim ahuvim, beloved friends. 

Desire and decency are hardly incompatible.  That’s not something that every teenager will figure out left alone or amplified by an equally immature echo chamber.

We can sit around and say, “oy vey.  Another terrible thing happened on campus.”  Or we can locate our inner Reuben and Judah and ask, “How can we initiate and influence the kinds of conversations that will have some impact on these behaviors and on the culture?”

Sure, we should encourage schools and universities to convene conversations.  But we shouldn’t completely outsource something so important. 

We should be talking with our children and grandchildren about the beauty of mutual love and the unacceptability of coercion. 

There’s an expression in rabbinic tradition – ha’olam k’minhago noheg.  The world pursues its usual course.  That’s fine for many things.  But when it comes to unhealthy, indecent behavior, we can’t let the world pursue its usual course.

We can, and must, have the kinds of conversations that will begin to shape behavior and culture.  

Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck on December 13, 2014